No Guitar on the Couch

Tonight in my weekly guitar lesson, also known as the fastest 30 minutes of my entire week, my instructor had me working on "Let It Be" by the Beatles.

I am not a huge fan of the Beatles or the song, but that is a topic for another post. It's not that I *dislike* either one.  I do have a healthy appreciation for the Beatles. I just don't seek the music out. To each their own.

To exacerbate my challenge with the song, my current version of the melody goes a little like this...

Let

It

ooops

wait, hold on

Be

hold please

Let

damn

Let

shit

It

Be

YESSS!

My chord version is even more fun as it follows the voice in my head instead of the more colorful verbal expletives....

index on 2 fret 1, middle on 4 fret 2, ring on 5 fret 3

C

middle finger to the 6th string fret 3...where's my index finger, cool got it, man this is uncomfortable

G

Sweet this one is easy...ahhh so pretty...

A minor

Damn this one sucks, remember to only play 3 strings

F

Yep nailed 5 of 6 strings again. Argggh.

As I struggled through the chords, he paused and informed me it was time to work on form. In other words, how I was holding the guitar. Lesson 1 - Stop practicing on the couch.

Excuse me. What?!

He repeated - Yes, start practicing on a chair.

I calmly informed him that I don't have any.

He didn't believe me.

I came clean - Sure, yes, I have them.  But my chairs are for holding my clothes.

Clearly he has dealt with my kind before. He simply said, "I am sure, just like myself, your bed can also hold your clothes."

Outsmarted again.

Notice neither one of us suggested a closet.  Or a dresser.  That seems a little too obvious.

Then he said I need to bring the neck of the guitar higher, closer to shoulder height.  I objected..."Wait, didn't Johnny Cash hold his neck straight out like this?" (insert my very best Man in Black impression, with corresponding tough face)

He laughed and said, "Um yes, but he was JOHNNY CASH."

Point taken. IronMin is not on the same trajectory in either singing, songwriting, or guitar playing fame. Got it. My best option to follow in his legendary foot steps is to get wasted and get my tractor stuck in the mud.

Doesn't seem likely.

In the past few weeks my work life has been so stressful and my downtime so limited, that holding the guitar and even struggling through the chords has been the light in my day. I can truly say - I love this time, focusing on something that is just for pure enjoyment, and relaxing into it. It has allowed me to re-center and stay in the present moment.  Running has always done that for me but lately the running has become labored and tough for reasons outside of my comprehension. It's just a phase - another moment in the ebb and flow of life.  But I am thankful I have found another outlet to ease the transition...it's a new version of uncomplicated happiness.

Isn't she pretty with her new strap?

The truth about the Hamptons

When I left you last, I was embarking on my first adventure to the Hamptons.

Mission completed. 

I learned a few things on this trip. First - where these secretive Hamptons actually are. On the South Fork of Long Island.  And yes, still in New York. (in case, like me, you thought they were in Connecticut)

Second - brace yourself for this nugget - it is beautiful and serene there. Right on the Atlantic, the scenery is breathtaking. Quaint little towns string together the beaches with boutiques and ice cream parlors, and sidewalks shadowed by trees. It feels relaxed.  It's a place where you can wear yoga pants all weekend (NOT the sweatpants with words on the back billboard...I'm talking Lululemon. The investment kind of yoga pants. Actually I can't think of a location in the world where the sweatpant billboard is appropriate)

When we arrived on Friday evening the first thing we did was hit the grocery and the wine store for supplies. Well, the order was more wine first then food. As it should be. When Betsy arrived and we became a party of 4, we headed to CowFish Restaurant in Hampton Bays for dinner and girly drinks.

Jamie, Betsy, Ali, and me with our first martinis of the weekend

Then on Saturday morning after lounging on the back patio basking in the sun, Jamie and I headed out for a 5 mile run while Betsy and Ali went for a long, invigorating walk along the beach. We regrouped and pulled together a leisurely brunch of greek yogurt, fresh fruit, mini bagels, and mimosas. And talked, laughed, and just soaked in the time together.

Then we headed out for the day, Jamie drove us through beachfront neighborhoods with houses I could only dream of (but wouldn't know quite how to even begin to furnish or worse - clean...) Then we headed into wine country. 

First stop - Bedell Winery

Oh, happy place

Ali and I doing side by side tastings

Love these girls

Next stop, Paumanok Vineyards...

A total eclipse of the sun

Straight rows of growing awesome-ness

Channeling super model hair in the wind

Next we headed back to Hampton Bays to meet up with Courtnay who was coming in from Manhattan.

Gorgeous view from the final stop...

And now a part of 5....Courtnay has arrived!

On Saturday night, after a wonderful afternoon of wine tasting...we came back to the house to prepare a Mexican fiesta!  Jamie had created the meal plan, and suddenly I was in charge of the grill.  Chicken and Steak. It's been almost 2 years since I've grilled and I have missed it. A lot. 

The grilling went fine.

It was the cutting of the meat that proved challenging. In typical IronMin style (which is classified as rather klutzy) my attempt to balance the platter of freshly grilled wonderfulness on top of the stove while chopping it up for the tacos ended up (not surprisingly) as a bad idea.

Someone cracked a joke, I turned to laugh...and the entire platter of hot, grilled meat splattered on the floor.

Imagine the collective gasp and corresponding horror.

Let me just say - I have the best friends anyone could hope for. We mobilized quickly - picking up the meat, grabbing another grill pan...Courtnay doused the meat in tequila and put it back on the grill to ensure that although we followed the mandatory 5 second rule as closely as possible - nothing slipped through that fail-proof countdown.

Everyone ate the meat. No one said a word.

That's true friendship.

Betsy planned a quiz game for us based on facts about me (can't tell you how amazingly thoughtful this was, and we laughed so hard) and then we played Cards Against Humanity.  You must play this card game. It is so politically incorrect and so hilariously fun.

Sunday we brunched again, shopped a bit in town, then headed home.

The perfect weekend.

No secret handshake or blood signed contract when I arrived in the Hamptons - but definitely smiles and a new level of relaxation when I left.  In short, while real estate in these parts may be somewhat elite - the reason for the Hamptons is pretty much the same as it back in the "up north" of my home state of Michigan.  It's for getting away from it all, getting close to what matters most, and recharging your batteries for the things you have to do until the next time you can do what you want to do.

And taking a moment just to be thankful for everyone you love.

No Juicing in the Hamptons

To whom it may concern (or entertain),

By the time you read this note, I will have turned into a giant stalk of celery.

Sincerely,
The big green scary thing formerly known as IronMin

Today is el sexto dia (the 6th day) of Juice-Gate 2013. Yes I am feeling quite grandiose this morning.

Tonight I begin the foray back into the world of the chewing, and to the world of wine. I am both pleased, and a little disappointed to be ending this journey.  Every day, the juicing just got easier. I do feel healthier now. I feel lighter and my mental energy level is through the roof.  Just ask my team at work. They hate me right now and are literally counting the minutes until I calm down and stop bugging them with my non-stop "What if we try this...what if we look at this...what if we launched this..."

It was fun for the first few days (I mean, that's my opinion anyway). Now their collective response is, "What if we have you have go back to food so you can focus your energy on thinking about what you want for lunch? That was more fun for all of us..."

I am going away for a girls weekend in the Hamptons to celebrate my birthday, which was a couple weeks ago. My friends have planned this for awhile and I cannot wait - I am so thankful I have such amazing people in my life. I am truly blessed.  The truth is, I have never been to the Hamptons. It is such a mythical place.  I am very excited. Unfortunately that makes me very uncool. I am not even remotely posing as a New Yorker when 1) I've never been there before, and 2) I get excited about going. The trick with anything that is exclusive and cool is to act like you really couldn't care less if you do it. Or that you are bored with it.

"Buffy, are you going to the Hamptons this weekend?  Bif and I are heading up on the Jitney Friday"

Buffy yawns while adjusting her pearls..."Oh Madge, we are just so bored with the Hamptons."

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that conversation never happened. Well, maybe it did. It may have been overheard yesterday while I was walking to the subway.

Anyway, I feel sort of like I am going there to spy on what happens. What is it really like?  What do people actually do in the Hamptons?  I've only ever heard of people going there (on TV and in movies) but we never seem to get the payoff on what takes place once you get there. I envision a bunch of people getting off a bus then standing there staring at each like "What now?"

It's like when you work hard all of your life for something you really want, dreaming of that moment when you are going to be rich and/or famous and achieve your success and when you get there you don't even know what to do. You just stand there and say "Whoa. I'm here" When a dream comes true, what follows it? Happiness? Peace? Contentment? Or just another dream?

Ok, so it's not really like that, but unless you can answer with certainty what happens in the Hamptons, work with me here.

It's a true philosophical mystery.

So I will be your beat reporter. The eyes and ears on the ground. Unless when I arrive there is some kind of secret handshake and a contract that I have to sign in blood that prohibits me from ever speaking of what I see and while do while there.

If that happens, you are on your own. I am a sucker for both clandestine handshakes and blood signatures. Sorry.

We embark on the journey this afternoon and thus, the trip to the Hamptons signals the end of the cleanse. Because no good girls weekend begins with "Hold on, let me grab my juice for the toast!"  Unless of course your juice also includes a heavy pour of vodka.

I am not sure what people say to other people when they are getting ready to leave for the Hamptons. It feels like it should be something far more eloquent than "Catch you later". Something like...

Until the swirling winds of New York draw us back into the hustle and bustle of this great city and away from our country hearth, I shall carry you in my thoughts.  

Godspeed ole chap.

Or in the words of IronMin...

Dude, I gotta run. My paws are in bad shape so I have to get a mani and a pedi before we go 

and I'm not even packed yet.  

I'll text you from the train. 

Juice This

I haven't been on the blog for a couple of weeks, but this time rather than blame laziness, writer's block, or both...I instead point to:

rampant busyness.

Since getting back from Mexico, which was quite epic and involved engine failure on the plane just as the plane lifted off the runway (then abruptly re-landed), an overnight delay in Cancun (sounds more glamorous than it was), and a few missed connections the next day, I got busy.

First, I started guitar lessons. So far I've had 2 and I am a master (not true) of Ode to Joy with the finger callouses to prove it. In last night's lesson he threw 3 chords at me and in the middle of attempting the first one I did what any budding rockstar would do - I threw a temper tantrum.

Me: I can't do it. See? Something is wrong with my fingers. They can't do that.
Instructor: Yes. Yes you can.
Me: No. My fingers won't let me.
Instructor: Yes. Yes they will.
Me: Look. I'm defective.
Instructor: No. No you're not.
Uncomfortable pause.
Instructor: Everyone can do it.
Me: Dammit. You play dirty.

Roughly 3 tortuously long minutes and several finger contortions later...my hand formed a claw-like shape that scared even me. I became an everyone.

Then I strummed all 6 strings with my right hand and something so beautiful entered the air in that little music room that I nearly yelped with pure amazement.

"I made that? Wow. I made that."  Followed by a long, drawn-out whispered "cooooool"

Yeah, I'm a goner for the guitar. I have yet to name it. However, to add to my adoration for my new companion, my instructor said it's pretty (we blushed) and he was more than slightly impressed that I had opted for a real guitar, something I can grow into, instead of the beginner's guitar kit at Toys 'R Us.

If nothing else, I know how to spend money.

I have 4 more weeks on the lesson plan and then I need to decide if I have enough confidence to go it alone. I'm probably signing up for more lessons. It's the most fun I've had on a Tuesday night in way too long to even try to remember.

Next bit of news, I ran the first of the shorter distance spring/summer Central Park races on Sunday. It was the NYRR Run for the Parks 4M.  I will be honest - I haven't been running all that much since the half marathon at the end of March.  (translation...I have not run at all) So I didn't expect Sunday to be a walk in the park (see what I did there?)  It was, however, better than I anticipated. It just mostly hurt after.

Sunday marked the first race in NYC after the Boston Marathon tragedy, and as expected, security was tight and emotions were high. There is really nothing I feel I can say about Boston.  It is almost like a sacred, off limits topic in my world because there is nothing that can be said that touches the rawness of that reality. Nothing can be said that can undo the horror, comfort the heartache and grief, or erase the fear that safety is lost. It is...unspeakable.

Runners on Sunday united with special bibs on our backs, coming together in a show of love and support for Boston that didn't require conversation but was impactful just the same.

Even when there aren't any words to be found, there is a tremendous spirit of unity and compassion.

And final news that's fit to print...I started a juice cleanse 4 days ago. Seems like everyone around me lately has been touting the health benefits of doing a juice cleanse and certainly after my wonderful beach vacation in Mexico my body was in need of a detox from all things taco, margarita, corona, and guacamole. The juice craze is in full swing in NYC and new companies and stores are popping up literally everywhere. After reading this article in the NY Times, I opted for Juice Press. The founder makes a ton of bold statements about how his cold-pressed juice is the best, and in another interview he even gratuitously dropped the f-bomb, so naturally I wanted to see if he has the goods to back it up.

The juices come in a 6-pack, which in a way is both ironic and cruel. 6-packs generally represent fun and sharing and good times and maybe even a party.  A 6-pack of juice on a cleanse means 6 meals without that chewing action (apparently pesky and tiring) that we've all grown to love and look forward to. 4 of them are green and although they all have different names like "The Meal", and "Complete Source"...they pretty much taste the same to me.

Two-at-a-time Delivery

Sure, you have a handle...but where would I carry you?  To the fridge?

Imagine drinking celery through a straw and you pretty much get the idea.  Although the right straw can make it almost fun.

The other two juices are slightly more interesting. "Sweet Potato Pie" is bright orange and tastes like carrots not pie. My favorite is the spicy citrus blend which is like lemonade with cayenne pepper in it, a la Master Cleanse.  It burns on entry but since I am a huge fan of Frank's Red Hot - I look forward to it every day.

The bottles suggest "do a juice cleanse"...like it's harder than it sounds

And that's all you get to "eat". And a lot of water.

So, as I head into my 5th day how do I feel? I definitely have moments of hangry (hungry and angry) but they are few and far between. In fact, my mood at work has been considerably pleasant, according to my co-workers. I have more energy in the morning. I sleep better at night. I feel a touch healthier. 

I have 2 more days. I miss chewing. 

When I see something like this, I want to cry, but I am hanging in there. In the meantime, I will be planning my first real meal back to the world of chewing. And tonight, I dream of steak.

Hard to see through the car window...but THAT is STEAK